I paid the price and own the scars why did we climb to fall so far ?
it's time, she thinks quietly, drawing into herself until she can square her shoulders and paste on that secret smile that has a way of curling around the edges of her mouth, amber eyes half hidden beneath lashes that are longer than life itself. amber gaze glints, shining dangerously from the shadows, and at last she steps outside of the library doors. today she would introduce herself to reichenback, the rightful king of the night court. after having been here all spring, of course Moira had seen him about with others. she'd hastily averted her gaze then and continued past in a flourish of crimson and gold. then, she had not been ready to meet the ruler of the house. too many rules were placed upon her before within the tonnerre compound. 'you must do this, moira.' 'never sit like that!' 'ten lashings if you or Estelle ever repeat such mistakes, girl.' and the glares! if she'd thought those cold, tinny voices had been awful, their eyes had been much worse.
what would this king be like? would he be kind with that smile she saw, crinkling eyes, and laughter ringing about him as though he were a jester made for everyone's entertainment? would his voice be as frosty as the mountains were tall and his commands so lordly and high? or would he be something in between? a safe haven for those lost, a warm hand to guide you through the dark?
no matter, she thinks, whispering it under her breath where she believes none will hear, today this is happening. head held high and eyes on the end of the corridor, the listens to the door close softly behind her, a sighing the only sign that it was a place she could not enter until she'd completed this task she alone assigned to herself.
candlelit corridors greet her, sconces set high upon the walls so that all would be brought to light in the midnight hours when the citizens all waltzed and played. she longs for the book left open upon the wooden table in the back corner of the library she'd claimed for herself, ancient pages still whispering their secrets to the rest of the darkness left behind. all the while, voices down hallways ring around her, her own feet sound like thunder in her ears, but nothing but serenity rests upon her dark visage. rounding a corner, and then another, moira makes her way to the entryway, hoping to find reichenback quick enough so she may scurry back into her little corner of the castle once more.
"hello?" she calls softly, amber eyes roaming about only to find few heads turning toward her. they were busy with their lives, as she should be. "reichenbach?" echoes at last, a more stubborn and mulish tone at last coming forward as brows drew down to settle heavily over her face.
in this house of broken hearts we made our love out of stacks of cards
The tender voice was almost lost within the candlelit court, drowned out by the distant drums and melodies of his revelling people. It gave him cause to turn from the vast window set in the muted stone wall of the corridor, argent eyes slipping from familiar face to familiar face in search of who sought him out. There — familiar... yet still a stranger. Moira stood out from the crowd of dark skinned courtiers that spent their time within the Keep, her skin a flaming sunset in comparison to the shadowy cast of their Caligo-inspired dress. He'd seen her, of course.. though he took notice of every new face he passed within his city, it wasn't easy to forget a girl blooming with the colours of a crimson sky.
Reichenbach turned from the window, his black lips sliding easily into a pleasant grin as he drew closer, bringing the scent of jasmine and woodsmoke with him. The light danced upon his ebony curls and caught in the red hues of his mahogany skin, shadows trapped within the planes of his rough-hewn face — he felt as if he'd aged several years since the night of his coronation. Though perhaps it was right for a King to look aged.. even if a contagious vibrancy still permeated the air around him.
"You called?"
His melodic voice emerged, a baritone edged with humour. Now they stood only feet apart it was easy to get lost within the details of the young woman's face — long lashed eyes, an elegantly built face, sharp bones.. yellow eyes that revealed a determined intelligence. Reich cocked his head ever so slightly, tucking every point of interest away before saying;
"A pleasure to finally meet you, Moira."
Would she be surprised that he knew her name? Some were.. But he hadn't risen to his position based on bloodline or royalty, he had been voted in. He knew his city and it's people, had grown up with the sly-eyed merchants and wild residents — every new face was an opportunity to spread the wealth of Denocte. More importantly, it was the people that made Caligo's court what it was — ever-changing and varied, with talents and cultures collected from all over the world.
What cultures, what talents, did this flaming girl bring?
@Moira oh. my. goodness. I am so beyond sorry for the wait on this!! I'll be much quicker from now on xx ALSO, I ADORE MOIRA <3 Lil sweetpea!
I paid the price and own the scars why did we climb to fall so far ?
This world is made of magic and monsters, acrylics given flesh, subjects bursting from paintings to swarm upon the floors, in corridors and commons alike, in nooks and crannies, behind curtains that stretch from floor to roof with no end in sight. They dress in purple and blue and black to hide skin so dark or fair, assimilated and yet completely individual with carnal desires reigning free within their souls.
She is not like them. The woman born of phoenix feather and flame, embroiled in sunsets and sorrow, does not don the garb of the Gypsy King's court, nor does she feel it a necessity to dampen anything about herself. Beauty is something Estelle possesses, she is a figment, a flaw upon the tapestry of Tonnerre names to be remembered only by her brilliance and generosity. Wings, wings that are abominations within their long lineage are quickly placed close to her sides, tucking tight so as to be unnoticed as they were to be within the walls of her home. No matter, some days she wishes she were born as the others are: silver and strong with lightning in their veins that crackles over their skin in a brilliant display of splendor and power. Each Tonnerre was perfect - bred to be a pillar of beauty and strength that all could look to.
Moira is not one of them.
They accept her as these people do, and she sees the same greedy interest in the King's eyes before he wipes it away to simply observe. What a smart man she finds, a wolf in sheep's clothing. He seems so soft as though he could melt into the night, as though his cocoa skin would drip away like the cups that were spilled on coffee tables with frustrated sighs and garbled apologies. A looseness of movements shows his comfort in his own skin, and she cannot help but to almost be envious of such a trait. When had Moira truly felt alright to splay her wings proudly, to lift them to the sky and sing and dance and shout in a glorious display her mother would have adored and her pale father would have smiled for in spite of their family?
Sorrow flickers along the edges of her brain, tickles synapses that are unnecessary for now, as she realizes that she's never done that while an adult. Once, when a child, perhaps she'd allowed herself the pleasure of flexing feathered appendages simply to know how it felt. But that was years ago and has since been expunged from her daily habits.
Clearing her throat, she pushes a congenial smile onto burnt brick visage, amber eyes glittering as they take in all of the King once more. "And you, my King. I believed a meeting was in order at last, please excuse me for having postponed it so long?" Soft, so soft are her words that are nearly whispered, a hush you must lean in to hear, something that is not submissive, but completely unremarkable in a way so that she would be so easy to forget. The very timbre of her voice is like the sea gently lapping the shore, washing away anything you'd value until all you know is the steady pulsing rhythm that sooths you to sleep. "I've taken a position in your infirmary," there is a ghost of that smile now, a longing stitched into angled planes or her fair face as she does not quite meet his eyes. "My family is not here, but they trained exquisite healers"
@Reichenbach well this is awkward ha, and no worries whatsoever ! <3 reich is so wonderful, i adore reading him !
in this house of broken hearts we made our love out of stacks of cards
04-30-2018, 07:40 PM - This post was last modified: 05-01-2018, 04:34 PM by Moira
Her voice was unique, and made him utterly curious about the origin of it. It was in complete contrast with her colours, her wings of flame and ember.
"and you, my king. i believed a meeting was in order at last, please excuse me for having postponed it so long?"
He grinned, a humoured gleam touching his long lashed eyes; "I won't hold it against you."
Had his baritone voice not been so musical, it would have clashed against the gentle timbre of his companion.. as it was... somehow, they worked together. Reichenbach noticed and said nothing, listening in silence as Moira continued to speak. It was excellent that she had taken it upon herself to aid the infirmary — especially when healers were not common in Denocte. The more healers, the better.
"my family is not here, but they trained exquisite healers"
His keen gaze did not miss the flicker of yearning that tightened her slender brow, but again, he chose not to mention it. Some things were better left unquestioned — at least until Moira decided otherwise.
"Excellent!, " he boomed, smiling, "Perhaps once you've settled in you can assist our Champion of Healing, Seree, in teaching others your skills.. If that is something you would enjoy?"
I paid the price and own the scars why did we climb to fall so far ?
There is an interest she's sparked, she sees it in the way those silver eyes light up when she first speaks, bright. Curious as a cat, he watches her even more closely than her own hungry mongrels at home had done. Moira likes the silver in his eyes, how it is as depthless as the sea, as bright as lightning. Her father would like this Gypsy King's eyes, she decides, almost nodding in silent agreement only to be pulled from her thoughts by the melodic words that were full of life and laughter that Reichenbach spoke.
At his comment the tension eases from her brow, a smile quirking along the edge of Mo's dark lips as she dips her head. If she had a fan she would have hid behind it, remaining a mystery of emotions and passion that she never realizes she has, but she does not and so instead the phoenix looks at her king behind lashes that match his. Everything about him is wild and untamed, from his hair that curls to and fro, a beautiful halo about his long face, to the way his body seems to simply flow from one stance to the next. Like water. Like the stars. Like night itself throughout the course of the darkened hours. Perhaps he was chosen for the crown with looks alone, but she doubts that as he continues on.
It would be easy to like Reich, and even easier to be in his company more than she's allotted herself. He is the loudness to her silence, the contrast to her ever-burning skin, the northern star that would guide her back to Estelle someday.
But she is not the social creature Estelle is, and instead she raises her head, proud as any Tonnerre woman with a straight spine of steel and a polite smile ever on her face. "It is appreciated, my King. You... What is a champion of healing? Have they won some competition? Some people simply take longer than others to heal, you know, so perhaps you should just have them fix a small burn or scrape or..." with an embarrassed squeaks she shakes her head, laughing gently.
Was she making a fool of herself with her incessant babbling?
Hiding her eyes once more, meeting instead the stare of suddenly very interesting knees that the king had upon him, Mo had enough sense to look chagrined. "I should let you explain before I babble, shouldn't I?" Peeking up under the edge of her braid, sheepish grin in place, she stuck out her tongue and made a little face as though that would change how silly she already felt. "Denocte... Has many new things I've yet to grow accustomed to. Are you from here, Reichenbach? Where I come from, my family has lived for generations. We bow to our matriarch, for she is very wise and holds the heart of the family in her best interest. We are a many people, and I couldn't tell you how many cousins I have. Actually, no, I could - they have us learn them all in our studies. But I digress... We are closed off from the world - my people are not simple minded, but they are not as receptive as your court seems to be. It's all I've known outside of Estelle who is my dearest companion." With that she smiles, something true and soft, showing her as just a girl rather than the hardened healer she so often puts on for the masses.
@Reichenbach <3
in this house of broken hearts we made our love out of stacks of cards
"it is appreciated, my king. you... what is a champion of healing? have they won some competition? some people simply take longer than others to heal, you know, so perhaps you should just have them fix a small burn or scrape or..."
As if he had opened the gates of her tongue, Moira's voice tumbled out all at once. It pleased him immensely, to hear so many words where before there had been none. His brow quirked slightly as her gaze dropped, a pleasant smile on his black lips that only grew at her sheepish smile — of all the things he had expected from Moira, he hadn't expected her to be quite so.. sweet.
"denocte... has many new things i've yet to grow accustomed to. are you from here, reichenbach?"
He opened his mouth to respond — but was saved a response as Moira continued, her voice lilting and pleasant, engrossed in what she spoke of.
"where i come from, my family has lived for generations. we bow to our matriarch, for she is very wise and holds the heart of the family in her best interest. we are a many people, and i couldn't tell you how many cousins i have. actually, no, i could - they have us learn them all in our studies. but i digress... we are closed off from the world - my people are not simple minded, but they are not as receptive as your court seems to be. it's all i've known outside of estelle who is my dearest companion."
There was a pause as Reichenbach settled his argent gaze upon Moira's gentle smile, the softness that seemed to settle into her youthful limbs at the mention of her family, her world.. Estelle. Another subject he pondered upon, something to broach at another time.. perhaps when she had settled in.
Another easy smile graced his face as he began to answer, his mind taking a moment to find it's way to her first question — are you from here, reichenbach?
"I was not born here, no.. But I was raised here, and I'd like to think that counts for something."
He flashed a wolfish grin before continuing; the baritone of his voice filling the room, full of life and humour.
"I would be pleased to educate you on our fair domain, if you have questions.. Though sometimes in Denocte it can be more fun to figure things out as you go."
He considered what she had said about her family, her culture. In Denocte there was such a host of stories, their people were so varied and came from far and wide — only recently he had been learning of the Children of the Sun with Noctiilucent, and before that, Isorath's people, the Vectaeryn. There was room for more, plenty more — the more the better. Reichenbach was a firm believer in learning techniques and skills from whichever source they came.
"Your people sound wise... and similar."
A close lipped smile followed, his mind sliding to the Rahilah — they, too, honoured a matriarch, and they, too, were an isolated people... but perhaps no longer. Things were changing in their world... beginning with the first Sovereign to set foot in the Rahilah camp for over one hundred years. Reichenbach smiled, warmth emanating from him as he discarded his own thoughts to focus fully on the woman before him.
"To answer your previous question... Champion of Healing is simply a title, given to our most skilled healer."
Skilled not only in healing, but in bringing the healers together, too. Seree was pleasant, and a total busybody when it came to the community of healers — Reichenbach had no doubt Moira would be welcomed into their small ranks with open arms.. Denocte's community didn't supply a great deal of healers.
"I'll tell Seree they have competition."
He murmured with a jovial wink, taking care to keep the gesture innocent — his heart was notorious as it was, he didn't need his paramour taking anything the wrong way. Their relationship had started, after all, after an innocent visit. He studied Moira for a moment, murmuring;
From the rich reds on his cheeks, striped down his neck, at the apex of his thighs, to the chocolate and cave-dark blackness of his lips, along his legs that were covered with white socks, and the brightness of his eyes, Moira once again is lost in the beauty of the man. Only the rich tone of his voice pulls her from the painting she sees - a man high upon the mountaintop crowned in starlight with a billowing cape of silver and blue. Gold meteors streaking through the atmosphere until he is haloed by the heavens - the chosen king of Denocte and Caligo. But it is the honesty, the earnestness, that draws her into his words and pulls a bittersweet smile onto her own carmine face. "It goes to show the heart of the people you lead, to allow those from outside into their guild as their leader. I think, if you don't mind, I would very much enjoy a lesson or two from you, Reichenbach. One trip out is more than enough for now, perhaps in time I will get to know your people as well as you do." For Moira is not truly one of them yet, now is she.
She has not strolled among the stalls under the full moon with a lover on her arm (even if she would not see them after that night). She has not painted a million portraits to capture not just the face, but the very heart of friends she has not made. She has not lived as the citizens do, but something unfurls.
Moira wants to belong.
A bitter laugh escapes, eyes closing with a harsh hum so at odds from the warmth just moments before. "They are my family and they are nothing like the freedom you offer. It is a collar and leash, a noose made of love and tradition and all that is stagnant. Here... There is so much more here." It is not that she does not love her family, for Moira adores the Tonnerres with everything she is. But love can be a poison just as sweet as any other, killing slowly bit by bit.
His slip of attention is not noticed as she opens her eyes and looks once more to the others who peer at them, curiosity written in the lines of pretty faces. Another thing she loves - the diversity. People from all walks of life are around them. The energy alone is enough to lift her spirits once more.
"You can tell her that she has a friend," she says at last, chuckling before his last question comes and all breath is knocked from her.
The phoenix chokes on her happiness, on the brief glimmer of joy and comradery she felt. A bleakness washes over her, erasing the smile from her eyes and the grin from her lips, pulling away the looseness of her skin, culminating in a dark cloud over her head. Estelle... Her Estelle who is not by her side, had not been for more than half a year now. Her Estelle who was the first to love her despite her obvious flaws and the wings others so abhorred. Her Estelle...
Her Estelle who she'd abandoned.
For a moment Moira feels lightheaded, frantically looking to the windows, to the doors, back to the hallway which would lead her into the halls that would help find a cure for the ailment her cousin had suffered. Panic-stricken and heartbroken, she gasps at last to avoid fainting. "She is not here." Moira says coldly, leaving no room for further questions on that subject. It is too sore a wound that has yet to heal, too fresh still for her to recover from, if ever she will. "Tell me of Denocte, my king, a story you love?" and so easily she moves away from the conversation of her cousin, but the tension still sits in her shoulders, lurks in the shadows of her petite Arabian frame.
How could she tell him that Estelle could be dead and it could have been her fault? She opts for silence instead.
"It goes to show the heart of the people you lead, to allow those from outside into their guild as their leader. I think, if you don't mind, I would very much enjoy a lesson or two from you, Reichenbach. One trip out is more than enough for now, perhaps in time I will get to know your people as well as you do."
Reichenbach smiled broadly and ducked his head, warmth blooming in his chest at her flattering words — it was soothing to hear, what with all the drama surrounding The Night Court lately. Most of that drama... perhaps all of it was due to his actions. Yet... they still loved him. Still smiled at him in the streets and came to drink with him in the taverns.
"I'm flattered," he said honestly, his voice a musical baritone, then dipped his head as he casually corrected "— our people."
"They are my family and they are nothing like the freedom you offer. It is a collar and leash, a noose made of love and tradition and all that is stagnant. Here... There is so much more here."
At that he remained silent, his argent eyes solemn as they searched Moira's face. Being an orphan, Reichenbach couldn't help but feel that any family would be better than none.. though admittedly he had not been alone for long. His band of Crows had seen to that.. and then the family that had taken him in, with children Denoctian born and bred to be his siblings.
"You can tell her that she has a friend,"
"I shall."
The moment his lips spoke Estelle's name the rouge girl stumbled — not physically, but the light that had been shining so brightly within her dimmed noticeably. A pang of regret went through him.. he should not have asked about Estelle so quickly, not when his keen eyes had picked up how important the girl was to Moira.
"Tell me of Denocte, my king, a story you love?"
His black lips perked into an easy smile, glad to move past the tense topic. He cocked his head, asking "Have you ever heard of the Darkbringer?" assuming she had not, he continued, gesturing for Moira to walk with him as he headed casually to one of the windows set into the stone walls, "Before Caligo chose to leave our domain behind, she had a daughter — pitch black with skin like a ravens wing... as beautiful as the night sky. She was named Ulla." Reichenbach glanced to Moira, silver eyes bright against the ebony of his lashes. He flashed her a smile before filling the air with his sonorous voice once more.
"Ulla lived with her mortal father and knew nothing of her mother but the stories she was given. That did not spoil her nature though, for she was a sweet girl with a strong heart. Ulla grew more beautiful by the day — and soon her beauty began to attract attention...
...though not as much attention as the powers she was beginning to discover. Caligo had left her daughter with the gift of taking away light — whether it be spiritual or physical, Ulla could remove it from someones life."
Reichenbach paused, letting silence stretch between them for a long moment.
"The rest of Ulla's story has many different endings... but I favour one in particular. Would you like to hear it? It is not the most popular choice of endings."
@Moira gah sorry for the wait!! bit of a bleh ending sorry!
He is quick with his words, with his emotions, and lets them show on his face as though they are a badge of honor, a banner flying high for all to see, the sun just peeking over the mountain tops to see who will look, who will notice the grandeur of all that is him. Moira enjoys the easy way Reichenbach responds, the way he moves from one thing to the next just as a river flows no matter the rocks that try to stop it. Easily he pushes his people on her, pressing her further into the folds of Denocte. For a brief moment, the woman feels as though she could walk through the artists stalls, taste the tea from the shops, live and breathe as the others here do. It makes her smile, however brief.
When that smile vanishes, he continues on to tell her a story. So easily does he jump to tell her of the Darkbringer - of Ulla. Trapped within his words, she hangs off of every syllable, that darkness nearly forgotten, and yet it still hovers on the fringe. "She sounds lonely," the phoenix breathes at last, meeting his eyes once more with a pang of understanding. While she's always had her parents, her family was not always by her side. She knows what it is to be alone, to have next to no one, to be friends with the night - the dark - and have nothing else but a northern star. Ulla... Ulla did not even have that from what her King tells her so far.
"It would be a pleasure, my King, to know which one you prefer. I think that all endings are fair game, no matter how unfair they are." Dipping her head, she offers him that small smile once more, so quick to forgive. After all, he is not a bad man. Perhaps there is more to this gypsy king than she knows.
Perhaps Moira wants to know more about him and all that is offered.
#c05122
@Reichenbach . I'm sorry this is so short ;o;
